This week Thalia has been reverting back to her old bedtime routine. And by routine I mean total lack of interest in sleeping in her own bed whatsoever and generally driving me crazy ape sh*t bonkers.

Unfortunately Sage is currently enjoying the same routine. So after much fuss and debate and whining and cajoling tonight, I carried Thalia back to her own bed with the promise to stay “not just for a short time but for a long time.”

I wanted to get out of there. I wanted to get back to the post I was working on. I wanted to watch a movie or grab some wine or chat with Nate or wash a dish. I wanted to do pretty much anything besides lie in a toddler bed for ten minutes with my knees up to my chest thinking about what else I could be doing besides lying in a toddler bed for ten minutes with my knees up to my chest.

As I held Thalia’s held her hand and stroked her back, I watched her facial muscles relax. I studied her plump cheeks and the curve of her lip and the way her hair curled over her ears. I examined her perfect, rosy skin and the shape of her nose. I thought about how much her eyebrows looked just like Nate’s and how the puffy part under her eyes looked just like mine.

I found myself watching her like I did when I was a nervous new mom, captivated by the unfamiliar being in front of me, taking in every detail as if I’d be quizzed on it. As if I might never see it again.

Soon, there was that extra deep double inhale, the one that tells you that sleep has come and you may now creep stealthily out of the room.

Instead, I stayed a little longer.